Book 4: Rampage
by IggyRamone
Summary: Never finished my version of Brisingr, that's a mistake I won't be making this time. I hope I can write faster than Paolini. So, Eragon's got his work cut out for him. Kill Galbatorix, screw Arya, and fulfill his millions of promises. Any questions?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Book 4 fic. I've committed myself to a long grind, but if you don't like it tell me so I don't end up wasting my time. I'll try and update regularly, seeing how I have more motivation for this story than the other three I'm writing.**

**11/6/09**

Dawn broke over Feinster belatedly that morning. The dust and ashes had not yet cleared from the night past, and indeed; some fires still raged. As did many matters of contention within the Varden.

The events that had unfolded only hours ago had shaped themselves as dilemmas of great importance, to be handled with care. Namely, the problem posed by the capture of Lady Lorana. After a brief conversation with Arya in the aftermath of the battle, Eragon had stumbled upon an idea. Remembering the declarations of the matriarch's guards, he had come to realize that the soldiers only served Galbatorix indirectly. It was only through the allegiance they had sworn their superiors that bound them to the king. But if Lorana was...eliminated, the soldiers would be freed of their bonds to her, and ergo, Galbatorix. And the Varden could always use additional troops.

The only reasons that her head hadn't parted company with her body were the question of the troop's future loyalty and of course, Eragon's ever-present moral quandary. They had assured the Lady upon her arrest they would deal with her in a civilized manner, but going back on such a promise would be trivial compared to what the Varden had to gain through it. Despite this, Eragon felt as if justifying a murder of convenience as a means to an end was past immoral; it was a step closer to becoming the embodiment of that which he hated most.

Arya, however, had been all to willing to wield the sword herself. "We cannot pass up the opportunity, Eragon," she had said. "An entire city's army would be a welcome addition to our ranks." This, while logical, was hard to stomach for him. There were too many undetermined variables for him to condone Lorana's execution, one being the question of the impressed troops' loyalty in battle. However, he grudgingly acknowledged Arya's position to be in the best interest of the Varden. He resolved to broach the subject to Nasuada and the Council of Elders for their opinions.

Which was why he stood alongside Arya this morning, making their case to those present in the command tent. Eragon sighed internally. _Now I see what Oromis meant,_ remembering the elf's assertion that elves seldom agreed, even when guided by logic. He _did _consider himself an elf, for among what humans would he fit in? Indeed, since his transformation many of them looked upon him with disdain, fear even.

Jormunder's voice pulled him out of his reverie. "Eragon, Arya, we thank you for bringing this to our attention. If you had not, we would have thought of no alternative for the men we captured other than imprisonment or death. You may well have saved thousands of lives with your proposal." Eragon looked over at Arya. There was no sign upon her face that she had just been vindicated. The stone facade, as always, remained in place.

"When will the execution happen?" asked Eragon, relieved to hear of the soldiers. If the alternative was massacre of an entire army, he would much rather send Lorana to the gallows. He still had his doubts, however.

"It will have to be soon if Feinster's army is to travel us to Belatona. Nasuada?" Jormunder deferred.

"I don't believe it will take any more than a week to completely secure the city. We start our march then, so it will have to be very soon," she declared.

"And what of the soldiers? Will we force them to serve us and hope they don't rebel after they find out we killed their liege?"

Nasuada's eyes narrowed. "Do we have a choice, Eragon?"

"I may be of some assistance there," interjected Arya, her mouth in a curious half smile. "You remember how Blodhgarm cast the apparition of Eragon onto Saphira? We could project another—in the form of Lady Lorana—to her subjects. Using her as a mouthpiece, we could order her troops to do anything we like. If we can do this successfully, the soldiers will believe they are upholding their oath in the ancient language, and follow 'Lorana's' commands."

Everyone stared at her, mouths open. "That's…that's genius!" shouted Ellesari.

"And in this way," Arya continued, "we may not even have to kill Lorana. As long as she is kept away from the public eye and properly incarcerated, I don't foresee any problems."

Silence.

Nasuada spoke first, as usual, cutting off any possibility of the discussion getting sidetracked. "Well, this is quite the development. I propose to we take a vote on the matter, through I think I can predict the outcome."

This was the way Nasuada like to work. Quick, efficient, with no room for the pointless dithering that had been all too common in Borremeo Castle. If someone was going to speak, it had better take the conversation somewhere. Under this unspoken standard, meetings had run much more smoothly and Nasuada had been able to run a tight ship. This was good, because the Varden was not a bureaucracy. They just didn't have the time nor the money to waste. She might have come off sharp, even brusque at times, but it was an attitude born of necessity.

Nasuada set the vote into motion, and the decision to use Arya's idea passed uncontested. Lorana's head would not roll today.

The gathering dismissed shortly thereafter, but Eragon remained seated. He was confused by Arya's sudden change of heart, and also a bit irritated. She had gone to such lengths to have him concede that finding another solution wasn't worth the time, only to change tack at the last moment. What was it, then? A joke, a game for her? Just a little reminder that she held infinite sway over him? She had rejected him before, and he had thought that their friendship was mending. It was rather cruel in his mind for her to start toying with him now.

"Eragon," she called from the entryway, beckoning him over.

"Yes?" he forced himself to say pleasantly. Then, less pleasantly: "You were going to do that all along, weren't you?" Arya's face hardened for a brief moment then smoothed over again.

"Actually, no. Do you think I would have spent my effort debating with you yesterday if I knew I was going to argue on your side the next day? You are far too stubborn to make that fun," she said with a hint of a smile. "No, it was simply the only solution I felt comfortable with at the time."

"So, what, you're saying that you came up with your idea today during the meeting?" Arya shook her head slowly.

"Of course not. You know as well as I do that I am not a spontaneous person. No, I thought of that late last night when rest would not come when I bade it. I have been far too confident of my ways for too long, Eragon, as I have told you. But—but now, I have decided to take guidance from a friend." Her voice wavered. "A friend that I have found in you, Eragon." No sooner than she had gotten the words out, she was gone.

Eragon walked back to his chair in a fuzz and plopped down. He did not get up for a very long time.

* * *

_And…_ Saphira intoned, _what do you make of it?_

_I don't know what to, Saphira,_ he replied. _That's why I came to you,_ he added.

_It seems to me you have had more impact on her than you know_, said Saphira, blowing a puff of smoke into the humid coastal air. They were flying high over the flat plains between Feinster and Belatona, having been sent by Nasuada on a scouting mission about an hour ago.

_How do you figure? _asked Eragon. There was a long pause, with only the gentle _whoosh_ of air past Saphira's wings.

_Do you truly no know or do you just want another to acknowledge it?_

_I—I,_ he faltered. _I do not know. However much time we may spend in her company, however well you might be able to read her, I will never understand Arya._

_Oh, Eragon. Do not be so bitter. _She gave the mental equivalent of a sigh. _Listen, because I will only say this once. Do not take it as an opportunity to confront her, either. She thought of her idea solely because of you. Arya does not know everything about you, either, so she tried to see things through your eyes this once. She changed her entire thought process for you, just trying to understand your perspective._

_You're saying that she tried to understand me, by _being _me?_

_Yes. And quite some good came of it, too._

_How do you know all of this? _he asked suspiciously.

_I asked Arya_, she replied nonchalantly. Eragon choked on the grape he was eating.

_And she just spilled all of that?_ he demanded, incredulous. Arya was definitely not one to share her thoughts, especially after all she had told him today alone.

_With a little bit of persuasion, yes_, smirked Saphira.

_Shall I dare ask what? _

_Probably not._

_Fair enough. Look, I think we've arrived. _And indeed they had. In the hazy air, there was Belatona, a smudge on the edge of vast Leona Lake. Eragon stowed his lunch in a saddlebag and grasped one of Saphira's spikes.

_Take us down._

**A/N: Suckish? Flames are welcomed.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry for the slow update, but I'm not promising to be any faster next time. No, that would just lead to a lot of broken promises in the near future. So, I got a beta, fAteD lOvE, and I hope reading is smoother this time around. She fixed a ton of stuff in places I didn't think it was possible to screw up. I don't think I'll be seeing my ego around much for a while.**

**Summary of last chapter: In the aftermath of the Feinster battle, Eragon and Arya squabble over how to handle the captured soldiers. After a short argument, Arya resolves to try and see things through Eragon's eyes for once. When this leads to her changing her position on the issue, Eragon thinks she is trying to play mind games with him and does the whole I'm-a-teenage-boy-and-I-don't-understand-girls-much-less-hundred-year-old-elves thing. Ironically, Arya has driven a wedge between them by trying to identify with Eragon.**

* * *

"So, remind me what we're doing here? I wasn't paying attention to Nasuada very well," admitted Eragon.

Saphira smirked as well as a dragon could, knowing exactly what had her rider daydreaming instead of listening to his liege._ She didn't tell us very much, that much is certain. All she said was that we were to come here to scout, but not how long we were supposed to stay or what to look for. Nasuada has been quite distant of late_, said Saphira haughtily.

Eragon grunted in assent, then jumped off his small blue mountain. He detached one of the saddlebags and sat down in her shadow, sheltering himself from the harsh noonday sun. There were no trees in any proximity to him, as the tailbone of the Spine blocked off most of the rain coming from the coast; inhibiting most growth. The fifteen-league stretch of land between the two cities was mostly rolling hills; covered in tough grasses and the occasional scrubby bush. It was on the backside of one of these slopes overlooking the city that Eragon made camp. Though far enough away that no sentry or outlying farmer could spot him peeking over the crest, he could still observe the whole city in vivid detail—down to the battlements—with his enhanced eyesight. He could see for miles and miles right through the haze.

"What do you think?"

_It is quite fortified, _observed Saphira. _These humans do have a talent for stacking rocks._

She was right. Belatona was double walled, each boasting thick parapets and imposing towers on three sides of the city. The fourth was open to the vast Leona Lake and a portion of the Jiet River.

"That's incredible! We can't siege _that_! Why would it be so well defended?"

_I do not know. I am surprised they went to such lengths without securing the entire city. _

"I suppose the people aren't as worried about pirates as they are in Teirm?" offered Eragon. "They cannot be directly attacked from the sea here, so they can afford to leave the harbor open."

_Perhaps. I still find it odd that they have only prepared for a land assault. It would be all too easy for an army to navigate up the river or across the lake and invade the port._

"Maybe the Empire was expecting an attack from the Varden. It knows that they are not accustomed to naval combat and so assumed that they would come by land."

_If the Empire was so worried about the Varden, why wasn't Feinster fortified the same way?_

This stumped Eragon. He went over the possibilities in his mind. Finally, he said, "He's hiding something." There was no need to say who_._ "And that's why she sent _us _here, not some ordinary scout," he continued slowly. It made sense now. Belatona was less than a day from Feinster on horseback; there was obviously a reason that Nasuada had elected to send them. She'd probably already sent a small party, heard their reports of the heavy security and then sent him and Saphira to investigate.

_My thoughts exactly_, confirmed Saphira. _Now, how do we find it?_

_I have an idea_, Eragon thought with a grin. It was just simple (stupid, maybe) enough to work.

**

* * *

**

In less than ten minutes, Eragon had lost sight of the city behind a hill and arrived at the shoreline of the lake, a mile or two away from Saphira. After sixteen years as a human, his elven speed and grace still amazed him each time he put it to use. He was breathing no harder than when he'd left. Here, the coarse soil of the hills had given way to conditions more receptive to growth nearer to the water, and so remained hidden from view by a dense screen of cypress trees. Wading through a thicket of cattails in the warm shallows, he ripped a particularly rigid one out by the roots. Freeing himself of the muck he'd been slowly sinking into, he walked back to the bank and looked across the lake. It had just the slightest bit of chop on it, but it was still relatively calm for such a huge area.

_I don't like this_, called Saphira from the limits of their mental link.

_Don't worry about me_, he replied, breaking a three foot section from the reed. He spoke a couple words in the ancient language quietly and then dipped it in the water. To his satisfaction, it kept the water just a hairsbreadth away from the shaft, similar to the guarded edge of a sword.

_Me? I would never. You, alone, in a hostile city where I cannot speak with you. As I recall, that has worked out beautifully for you in the past. What could possibly go wrong this time? _Eragon ignored the jibe and flexed the tubular plant.

_Farewell for now, Saphira. I will be back before sundown. If I am not, feel free to destroy the nearest building. _

_Don't jest with me, little one. _She sent an image of her tearing the roof off of the jail in Gil'ead. Eragon laughed and dove into the clear waters of Leona, heading for the harbor in the distance.

An hour's quick breaststroke brought him to within a third of a mile of the pier where the larger ships were moored. He flipped over on his back and fitted the reed into his mouth. Fortunately, the improvised wards he had placed on it had protected it from wilting while he swam. While he wished he hadn't had the need for such a crude device, he did understand that it would be impossible to provide the energy necessary for invisibility over such a distance. Taking a few breaths to clear the pipe, he kicked cautiously and slid under the surface with nary a splash. He submerged farther and farther into the darker depths, taking care to maintain the balance between remaining inconspicuous and keeping the water out of the tube. As he settled into a rhythm, the feeling of the cool water on his skin became almost relaxing, save for the unforgettable knowledge that he would be attacked on sight. However, people were on the lookout for a smooth-faced teenager, not a little brown shape bobbing in the harbor.

_Inhale, stroke, exhale. Inhale, stroke, exhale._

Nearly half an hour later, the monotony was broken. Eragon had propelled himself right into the hull of a ship, his head hitting with a _thunk._ Wincing in pain, he rubbed his head and poked his eyes ever so slightly out of the water. He'd finally arrived at the docks; where the offending ship was the last one in the row. There was no one on the pier, and the breadth of the craft hid him from watchmen as expected. Using magic to saw a square about three feet wide into the hull, he punched out the piece of wood and pulled himself up into what appeared to be the cargo hold. The hold proved to be empty save for stacked wooden boxes. Eragon had replaced the cutout and was about to climb the ladder leading to the upper decks when, on a whim, he decided to see what was inside the crates. With a crowbar he'd found on the floor, he popped one of the lids and looked inside to find…

Absolutely nothing except for…

A large roll of cotton thread. _I guess I shouldn't have expected it to be so easy, _thought Eragon, amused by his own anticipation.

* * *

The city proved easy to enter once Eragon had taken the necessary precautions. It had only taken him a few seconds to alter his facial features and dry his clothes with a little magic. After putting a rip here and there in his plain garb, he passed for the average longshoreman and was able to walk off the dock in plain sight. He felt lucky that he'd eschewed dressing elaborately that morning; as he'd brought no change of clothes and most of his others—which were of elven make—would have stood out in a crowd.

Eragon wandered aimlessly from plaza to plaza, keeping an eye out for clusters of patrolling soldiers or anything else that seemed out of the ordinary. A little nostalgically, he remembered the last time he'd wandered the streets alone like this—in Dras-Leona, while traveling with Brom. The thought of his mentor—no, his _father—_brought him a pang of grief. He allowed himself a moment of weakness, and then shook it off. _At least I don't have to worry about the Ra'zac cornering me in a cathedral anymore_, he thought ruefully.

The cathedral! Eragon distinctly recalled its forbidding spires and disturbing statues, and even more clearly, the fleeting pulls at his mind that had come from all around him as soon as he took his first steps inside. He'd not realized it at the time, but it was the same prickling feeling he received whenever he was near a corps of magicians or intriguingly, fighting Murtagh. The dire words of the wounded swordsman he'd met in the infirmary tents at the Varden's camp echoed through his mind. Others_ illuminated him…I could feel them close at hand, raging at the world as if they hated everything in it, but their bodies were hidden from my sight. They were there and not there._

A further moment of consideration led him to conclude that he only felt such sensation when there were multiple consciousnesses around.

He had long since determined that Murtagh had a supply of Eldunari. _And if I felt that in the cathedral, that means there were either magic users surrounding me, or there were Eldunari hidden somewhere! _He eliminated the prospect of unseen spell casters, as if they had been there; they would have aided the Ra'zac in their pursuit of him. But the more he thought about the alternative, the less likely it seemed to be. Galbatorix lived in Urû'baen, not Dras-Leona, after all. If a store of Eldunari had indeed been there, what was its purpose?

Of their own accord, Eragon's feet set in motion, heading for the daunting black spires in the middle of the city. This cathedral might not contain the same secrets as the one in Dras-Leona, but it was worth a look. Besides, it was the only lead he had.

Eragon knew the level of vigilance he exercised while entering the seemingly vacant establishment was probably unnecessary, but he couldn't help himself. His one previous experience had taught him only one thing: even empty churches were dangerous. This one may not have been as cavernous as its sister, but the carved black gargoyles on the wall were no less intimidating.

The flagstone floor was cold on Eragon's bare feet as he treaded with the lightest of steps. His boots had been left with Saphira, he'd been well aware of the fact that their steel tips would not bedoing any favors for him in the water. The combination of the stagnant air and oppressive silence made him claustrophobic, despite the high ceiling and sparse furnishings. The room was lit by stained glass windows imbedded in the walls and ceiling, throwing confused shadows onto the floor. Gargoyles sneered at him from all directions; their hard ridges unsettling. He walked slowly down the aisle with a hand on his sheath, looking down the military-straight rows of pews. The altar at the front of the room was set upon a raised platform, with four steep steps leading up to it. Eragon stepped up onto the dais and leaned on a wooden pulpit near the edge of the platform, observing the statues lined up against the back wall.

Just as he shifted his full weight on it, two quiet clicks made themselves audible. Eragon whirled around to face the entrance of the church, drawing his sword with a metallic rasp. The doors were still tightly shut, and no one seemed to have come inside. A tense minute passed as Eragon stood stock still, becoming an extra statue in the building. After it had passed, Eragon—finding no intruder with a through sweep of his mind—finally relaxed. Even so, he kept a firm grip on Brisingr as he leaned against the podium once more. _Click. _Eragon stood up straight and narrowed his eyes at the solid structure beside him**. **He jabbed it with his sword experimentally, hearing a noise that—if he was not terribly mistaken—was that of metal clinking against stone. He grabbed two corners and jostled the podium a little, wondering if it was anchored to the floor in some way. It was, but the affixation seemed to be loose, if not detachable. Emboldened by what he had found, Eragon lifted the piece of furniture up and free of its socket, wincing at the scraping noise it produced as it moved half an inch at a it had stood was now a bare patch of drilled stone. The bottom of the pulpit had metal rods attached to it, a mirror image of the placement of the holes in the rock. But what unnerved Eragon was neither the pattern that the holes formed, nor the insignia burnished into the wood, but what the little circles had revealed.

A soft light emanated through the half-inch spaces in the marble plate, which appeared to be only about three or four inches thick. Slowly, surreally, Eragon fitted his fingers into the drilled spaces and pulled the panel up and off to the side.

Silver light beckoned to him as he stood, rooted in place. Now fully exposed without the false tile, it seemed that a very long set of stairs awaited below…

* * *

**A/N: Same deal as last time. Tell me if it sucks. I'd prefer if you reviewed, I don't write for myself you know.**


	3. Author's Note: ON HIATUS

2/2/10

Hey guys:

I know I haven't updated in a while, and I don't think I will be for a little while. My life's hit a bit of a roadblock, and whatever inspiration I might have had a few months ago is completely gone. I might as well tell you what's going on, as FFN provides a more or less anonymous outlet for me. My dad's always been an alcoholic, but in the last year or so all the tension and drinking has finally come to a head and exploded. My family sent him to rehab, thinking that he would finally be able to fix his problem, but he came back after only two weeks, drunk again. That, combined with their divorce and the recession, has put just a tiny amount of stress on me. I can barely focus on my easy as hell schoolwork, let alone try to write creatively.

So that's the end of my little sob story. I'm not looking for sympathy, but reading this thing over again it sure comes off that way. Whatever, I just wanted to give my readers the courtesy of explaining why this thing's on hold, and also to avoid shitty PM's going "why the hell haven't you updated you lazy bastard, it's not like you have anything better to do". I know the vast majority of you guys don't care, but I was writing more to anyone who might have been excited to see this thing continue.

I'm sorry to disappoint anyone who might have been excited for a new update, but this thing's officially on hiatus. Do know, however, that I haven't given up on the story. I'll be updating whenever I can force myself to write for you guys. You might get a few chapters here and there, but that's not a given.


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